His rhythm fractures into something desperate, wild, his thrusts losing their precision for sheer, driving need. The slap of skin on skin fills the room, a frantic, wet percussion to our ragged breathing.
“Jinx—” I sob his name, but it’s not a word anymore, just a plea for anything and everything all at once.
He understands. He always does. With a final, devastating thrust, he sinks to the hilt and stills, a choked growl tearing from his throat as he pours himself into me. The hot, pulsing rush of his release is the reason for my downfall.
My own climax detonates, a silent, blinding wave that whites out every thought. My back arches off the bed, a silent scream locked in my throat, every muscle seizing in a perfect, agonizing release that seems to go on and on, echoing the pulses of his own finish.
Drowning in a shared heat, I get a taste of blissful happiness. It’s…something.
A sensation that makes me feel light enough to get swept away by the simplest gust. Thankfully, the weight of Jinx’s body keeps me in place.
Collapsing on top of me, we both fight to catch our breath. Remaining tucked inside of me, he shows no signs of moving. Especially when he lies right on top of me. Despite making it harder to breathe, he’s in no rush to budge.
Biting my lip, I have to fight the urge to smile. This man really knows how to be a handful. In this position, I can hug him without drawing any attention.
My fingertips trace the map of his pain, each ridge a story I’ve tried to imagine. I chew on the inside of my cheek, hesitating on what my next words will be. Surely, it would be fine to ask. He wants me—wants the whole damn club to know it. That kind of craving has to mean something, doesn’t it?
“Will you tell me how it happened?” The words are a breath against the quiet, barely more than the sigh of the sheets as I drag my fingers lower, toward the hard line of his tailbone. His cheek is a heavy, warm weight against my breast, and I’m certain he can feel the frantic drum of my heart despite my calm demeanor. “You don’t have to. It’s none of my business. I just want to know.”
I want to know the secret things. The things no one else has ever been given.
He curls into me then, his arms wrapping around my body as his hold becomes solid. His sigh ghosts over my skin, a warm, damp shiver. Silence floods in, thick and cold, filling the space where his answer should be. Just as I give up, just as I accept the quiet as my answer, he turns, pressing his face hard between my breasts as if to block out the light, or the past, or both.
His voice is muffled, swallowed by my flesh and the terrible weight of the memory. “My old man was a drunk asshole.” His arms tighten, a reflexive, almost painful squeeze that steals my air. “Took his anger out on me instead of my mother.” A pause, where I feel the ragged intake of his breath against me. “Made it real clear I’d turn out just like him. A nobody.”
My fingers never stop moving, a slow, steady stroke across the landscape of his back. A silent promise that I’m here with him, here to share his pain. I’ve mastered carrying the weight of it.
“Said these scars were just proof. A reminder that I’m worthless. He did a fine job of putting that thought in my head every time I catch a glimpse of them. But now… things are different.”
“You’re with people you can call family.” Closing my eyes, my mouth curves. “One big one with a lot of issues. Brothers who wouldn’t hesitate to protect you. That has to mean something.”
He nods. “Working toward a patch might be silly, but it’s what I needed to feel like I held worth. Even better, you’re willing to give yourself to me, so that has to mean something, right?” When he pulls back, he’s got a cheeky grin on his lips.
Shifting so I can cup his face, my thumb trails against his lower lip. I’m starting to warm up to this smile of his. “You mean something to me, Jinx.”
His smile shifts, his lips parting in surprise. “Whoa. Are you about to use the L word to make me feel better?”
Despite the amusement in his voice, I can’t miss the way his voice hitches. Is it nerves? I bet it is.
Planting my hand over his face so he can’t see the blush on my cheeks, I turn away and curse when I feel his cock twitch. Only he could want to get worked up again because of a few sentimental words.
“I’m not that nice. Now, are you going to get off of me, or suffocate me to death under your weight?” Giving him a push, I feel his smile return against my palm.
“You don’t have to worry about saying it.” Pulling back, he doesn’t move away entirely. Grinning down, his eyes freaking twinkle. “I can sense it in the way you look at me. You love me, don’t you, Raven?”
He’s picking a fight by teasing me, but I can’t even do something as simple as deny it. Otherwise, I’d be lying.
The truth settles in my chest, warm and solid and terrifying. I think… I think I do love him.
But he can wait for that confession. The last thing this infuriating, beautiful man needs is a few simple words to go to his already oversized head. Let him wonder. Let him ache for it, just a little.
My silence is my answer, and the smile that touches my own lips tells him I know it. He reads it perfectly. A low, triumphant sound rumbles in his chest.
In one smooth motion, he grabs my legs and wraps them around his waist, pulling me flush against him. His hips rock, a deep press that shows he is very ready to go another round. A breathless laugh escapes me, tinged with wonder and exhaustion.
How in the world can he keep going?
Leaning down, he murmurs his sweet nothings and promises against my lips before swooping in to claim my mouth for his own.
